


Master

by squiggid



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Game(s), SWORDPLAY GET IT AYYY, Sex, Spoilers, Weapon Anthropomorphism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25822558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiggid/pseuds/squiggid
Summary: With one touch, the angry fire inside him melts into something else, something deep with desire that pools at the bottom of his chest. Alvis’s hand is so warm in his as he carefully strokes each fingertip, as if remembering how Shulk’s hands feel.“Do you want to know how it felt for me?” Alvis asks, glancing up at Shulk through half-lidded eyes.
Relationships: Alvis/Shulk (Xenoblade Chronicles)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Master

**Author's Note:**

> Big spoilers for endgame!!
> 
> What if Alvis could feel Shulk touch him as the Monado, Soul Eater/Noragami-style?
> 
> Thanks to [@Smashing_Successor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smashing_Successor/) for the swordplay pun tag. I promise there’s no actual swordplay in this.

“Alvis...!” Shulk gasps.

“Hello, Shulk,” Alvis responds with a slight smile, as cool as he ever is.

Shulk can’t remember how to move. This boy he thought he’d never see again, this boy who guided him through his most anxiety-ridden moments, this boy he thought he’d killed after selfishly asking for a world without him... this silver-haired, easily-smirking boy is standing in his doorway.

Alvis drags his gaze down and up Shulk’s frame. “You look well.”

“Er, thanks,” Shulk stammers. He’d forgotten how uneasy he always felt around Alvis, like the other always knew something about him that he himself didn’t. 

Well, that all makes sense now, in retrospect.

“You look well, too,” Shulk says lamely.

It’s true. The boy looks a little older now, a little more sure of himself—it only makes sense, really, since it’s been so long since they’ve seen each other. Alvis’s hair is still longer, but it’s not as unruly, a bit more tame now. And that mischievous brightness in his eyes is still there, even if it’s a little more subtle this time, a little less like he could peel apart Shulk if he ever really wanted to.

He looks good, to say the least.

“I’m relieved to hear that,” Alvis says. His voice is as smooth as ever. “It was a bit troublesome to finalize a Homs form I wanted to take.”

“Is that what happened? After I asked you to recreate the universe, you created a Homs body for yourself?”

Alvis puts up a hand between them, glancing cautiously at some passersby. “Pardon me, but I believe it would be in both our best interests to continue this discussion more privately.”

“R-right, of course.”

Shulk takes a step back, letting Alvis into his home. It’s messy and small, but it’s nothing a bit of hospitality won’t remedy.

“May I offer you something to drink?” Shulk says, stepping toward the kitchen.

Alvis shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary. I don’t intend to stay for long.”

“Oh, all right.”

That’s not what Shulk wants to say. He wants to ask why. He wants to ask Alvis to stay and help him, guide him once more.

He wants to apologize.

“It is as you say,” Alvis continues their conversation, leaning against the wall of the entryway. “After the recreation of the universe, I renounced my powers and chose to continue on as a Homs.”

“But why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Shulk says in almost a snap. “This whole time, I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d...”

Shulk clenches his fists by his side. With or without the powers of the Monado, he still feels so powerless against the indestructible force that is death.

“I believed it would be in your best interest to live your life without me,” Alvis explains in a frustratingly neutral tone. “Without a reminder of the gods you so hate.”

Shulk whispers roughly, “I never hated you, Alvis. I...”

What did he feel? It’s complicated. He felt like Alvis was always one step ahead of him, just waiting for him to catch up. There was a sort of patience and understanding about their relationship that always felt comforting, even when Alvis was pulling some questionable strings behind the scenes.

“I’m happy to hear you don’t hate me,” Alvis says with a small smile. “You were my favorite master, after all.”

“Master?” Shulk says with raised eyebrows.

Alvis blinks slowly. “Have you forgotten?”

Oh. Right. Alvis... Alvis wasn’t just the force driving everything together. Alvis was the spirit of the Monado. Alvis  _ was  _ the Monado. Every time Shulk had held the Monado, he had been holding Alvis.

Suddenly, a wave of awkwardness overwhelms him.

At Shulk’s bright blush, Alvis’ smile widens. “Don’t be alarmed. You handled me quite well.”

“I did?” Shulk asks, almost in relief.

“Yes,” Alvis says, breaking his gaze away to remember. “When you touched me, it was... always with care. There was a gentle serenity about the way you held me.”

In his reminiscing, Alvis’s hand wraps around his other wrist. Slowly, he rubs circles on the soft skin there. The movement is enchanting and far too intimate.

Shulk clears his throat to try to break his trance. “I see.”

“Every master had a different style,” Alvis continues, still rubbing absentmindedly at his wrist. “Zanza wielded me with complete, domineering control. And Dunban—well, Dunban had those big hands.”

Alvis chuckles to himself at the memory, and for some reason, it lights a fire inside of Shulk. Just moments ago, Alvis was touching his wrist and thinking about Shulk, and now he was giggling over Dunban’s big hands. It’s hard to explain the stupid sort-of anger and hurt pride blooming inside of him.

But, of course, he doesn’t have to struggle to explain it—Alvis catches on as soon as Shulk’s expression changes in the slightest.

“You needn’t worry,” he says, taking Shulk’s hand in his own. “You touched me the way I liked being touched.”

With that touch and those words, the angry fire inside him melts into something else, something deep with desire that pools at the bottom of his chest. Alvis’s hand is so warm in his as he carefully strokes each fingertip, as if remembering how Shulk’s hands feel.

“Do you want to know how it felt for me?” Alvis asks, glancing up at Shulk through half-lidded eyes.

Shulk licks his lips and swallows. Does he want to know? He’s not sure.

Gingerly, Alvis places Shulk’s hand on his waist and then steps closer, closing the distance between them. Sliding his arms around Shulk’s neck, he presses his body up against Shulk’s—all warmth and softness.

With a brush of his lips against Shulk’s ear, Alvis whispers, “Hold me.”

Shulk’s fingers twitch. Slowly, he reaches out with his other hand and then wraps his arms around Alvis’ waist, stroking the small of his back.

In his arms, Alvis lets out a small sigh against Shulk’s ear. He leans into the touch and then leans back against Shulk, pressing his body up against him. The fabric of their clothes slide against each other and makes everything feel uncomfortably hot.

“No, that’s not quite right,” Alvis mutters.

He takes a step back, and the sudden loss of contact leaves Shulk feeling almost lonely. But the feeling is quickly smothered by shock when Alvis starts to shrug off his jacket.

“A-Alvis,” Shulk trips over his words.

Alvis gives him a cautious look as he unbuttons his shirt. “Is this not what you want?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just...”

His words die in his mouth when Alvis peels off his shirt. He’s quite fit—maybe almost too fit. Shulk can’t look away from perfection.

He doesn’t dare look away when Alvis undresses the rest of the way. The more he reveals his body, the more unmistakably beautiful he is. Even with his cock half hard and bouncing lightly between his legs, Alvis is stunning.

“It’s just what?” Alvis asks, closing the distance between them again.

“N-nothing,” Shulk says, licking his suddenly dry lips. “I’ve just never done something like this before.”

Alvis wraps his arms around Shulk’s neck again. “But you have.”

“Well, I wasn’t aware of it.”

An easy smirk rests on Alvis’s mouth. “Let me show you, then.”

He leans in and settles his body against Shulk’s once again. It feels completely different this time, now that Alvis doesn’t have any clothes on. Now that there’s nothing to hide the hardening flesh between their bodies.

“Hold me,” Alvis instructs again.

Shulk’s hands rest on Alvis’s hips, more hesitant to touch this time with such exposed skin. But the sharp exhale that escapes Alvis’s lips at the touch fuels Shulk’s confidence, allows him to explore the rest of Alvis’s side, his waist, his back.

“Ah—yes,” Alvis whispers breathily against Shulk’s neck. “I’d forgotten—just how talented your hands are.”

Shulk bites his lip. It’s hard to stop touching Alvis when he’s so responsive, when he clearly loves every stroke against his shoulder blades, every massage on his lower back, every drag of knuckles against his spine.

His hands pause at the start of the curve of Alvis’s ass.

At the hesitation, Alvis leans back to look at Shulk in the eye. “There’s no need to be shy. You’ve already touched everywhere on my body.”

“Everywhere?”

Alvis’s smirk is back. “Yes. Everywhere.”

Taking Shulk’s hand, Alvis slides it over to the front of his body, between them.

“Touch me, Shulk,” Alvis murmurs, placing Shulk’s hand on his cock. “Touch me like you touched the Monado.”

Like he touched the Monado? It’s been ages, but maybe he can remember. Maybe he held the sword like this, with his fingers this way, his thumb this way, with just enough pressure.

Alvis shudders in a gasp and dips his head in the crook of Shulk’s neck. Those gasps and heavy breaths are enough encouragement for Shulk to stroke more firmly, more confidently. With every pump of his fist, he remembers the grip of the sword, the cool touch of the blade, the weight of the weapon in his hand.

“Your hands,” Alvis breathes against Shulk’s neck. “They always treated me so well.”

Shulk straightens up a bit in confidence.

“You ought to feel them, too,” Alvis says.

“What?”

Alvis leans back again, but only an inch.

“Share this with me,” Alvis says. “It’s always been so unfairly one-sided.“

“What are you...”

His question is answered when Alvis’ hands start to undo Shulk’s pants. There’s no time to feel embarrassed about his own hardness—Alvis is quick to rest their cocks against each other and place Shulk’s hand over them.

“Together,” Alvis says softly. “Like we used to be.”

There’s something so poignant about those words coupled with the hint of sadness in Alvis’ tone. Alvis doesn’t usually show his emotions, and Shulk can’t remember ever seeing him look sad before. Maybe this is why he stopped by, even when he didn’t think he should have.

The feeling is mutual. Shulk misses those days when he had the Monado and was given guidance by this mysterious, all-knowing seer.

Slowly, he moves his hand, stroking both of them together. The feeling and friction is electric, and it’s clear from the facial expressions and the small noises he makes that Alvis is enjoying this as much as he is. Alvis still has one hand loosely wrapped around Shulk’s neck, and he uses it as leverage to lightly rock his hips into Shulk’s touch.

“Ah,” Alvis sighs, looking at Shulk through his eyelashes. “I love when you touch me.”

Shulk’s fingers are no longer curious, hesitant. They move now with more certainty, knowing more what they want, how to move to elicit certain responses from the boy wrapped around him, how to make him gasp and moan.

Soon, Alvis is trembling in his hands, and his grip on Shulk’s neck is tight. He pulls Shulk closer, presses their foreheads together, stares at him with determined eyes.

“Shulk,” Alvis says, his tone surprisingly demanding. “Take control. Take me.”

“Wh-what?”

“Let me be yours.”

Shulk’s eyes are wide. He’s never seen Alvis look so serious, so passionate about something.

“I’ve never...” Shulk trails off.

“Don’t be afraid,” Alvis says, unwrapping his arms from around Shulk. “Let me guide you.”

Alvis drags his fingers down Shulk’s arm before taking his hand. As if already knowing the layout of Shulk’s house, Alvis brings them to the bedroom, fully undresses Shulk, and then pulls Shulk on top of him as he falls backward onto the bed.

“It’s a bit different in a fully Homs body, but...” The corner of Alvis’s lips quick upward. “It’s still good.”

“You’ve done it since you’ve been in this form?”

Humming, Alvis strokes a finger down a muscle in Shulk’s upper arm. “Yes, but none of them were quite like you.”

“I can’t say I will be much better,” Shulk laughs nervously.

“Oh, you will, I have no doubt.” Alvis hitches up his legs and holds them open with his hands. “Now use those fingers that I love.”

Shulk’s hand trembles as he reaches down, past Alvis’s hard length, between his legs to brush over the hot, tight hole underneath. He pauses in uncertainty, this unknown territory, but Alvis is looking at him with such a keen, confident eye, and Shulk doesn’t want to disappoint.

He curls one finger inside the hole. At the contact, Alvis takes in a large inhale and squirms against the bedsheets. It looks uncomfortable and pleasing at the same time.

Shulk leans in, hovering more over Alvis’s body. “You said I touched you everywhere before. Did I touch you here, as well?”

“No.” Alvis’ smile is a little more lopsided than usual as his head lulls to the side. “But I wish you had.”

It might be the perfect response, the response that makes Shulk curl his finger further inside Alvis, introduce another finger alongside it and stroke him from the inside. Alvis is trembling again, and his arms look tired from holding up his shaking legs.

“Shulk,” Alvis moans. “Take me.”

Shulk lets out a small breath at those words, the way Alvis is spreading himself so far apart for him. He’s still so unsure of what to do—or rather, how to do it well—but he’s sure that he has a hard, aching cock between his legs and a nice, stretched hole around his fingers.

It takes a little awkward adjusting, but Shulk slicks himself up with spit and lines up their hips together, touching Alvis’s knees, and then—gently—he pushes in.

The sound that escapes Alvis’s lips is one that Shulk never thought he’d hear from the usually-so-composed seer. Alvis shivers underneath him, head tipped back, Adam’s apple bobbing, as he takes in more and more of Shulk’s cock.

“A-are you all right?” Shulk says, voice quivering more than he’d expected.

“Oh, you. Always caring so much.” Alvis laughs unsteadily and then looks Shulk directly in the eye. “Come on, master. I’ve been waiting—for you to have me like this.”

“Master” still sounds strange. Before it was Alvis matter-of-factly calling him that—now he’s directly calling him it in his own bed. But there’s something about Alvis’s words that make him want to prove to him that he’s grown, that he can wield the Monado well, that he made the right decision in the end.

Shulk moves inside of Alvis: slow and hesitant at first, but it looks like Alvis won’t have any of that. He’s been waiting for too long, and his desperation shows in his grabby hands, his desperate moans, the words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Own me,” Alvis breaths, gasps. “Use me. Dominate me.”

They’re words that Shulk isn’t used to hearing, not at all. He’s never fully felt in control of anything, not even when he had the power of foresight in his hands. But maybe just once, maybe with this beautiful boy, this magnificent weapon, in his hands, begging to be conquered, Shulk can pretend that he has the power he’s always wanted. He can show Alvis with sharp juts of his hips just how strong he is, how strong he always was, how strong he will be in a future without these all-powerful gods.

When they come, Alvis’s grip on Shulk’s arms match just how tight Shulk held the Monado the last time he thought the world was coming to an end.

“Oh,” Alvis sighs against Shulk’s ear. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Shulk admits.

The kiss they share is so soft and long overdue, a languid movement of lips against lips.

“I wish I could be by your side again,” Alvis whispers against Shulk’s mouth. “I wish you could use me again.”

Shulk closes his eyes. “Alvis, I… I don’t think of you like that.”

A pause, and then Alvis pulls his neck back to look at Shulk more squarely. There’s a complicated emotion on his face—caution, worthlessness, regret.

Quickly, Shulk shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant. I meant… I don’t want to think about using you or owning you. I never even thought about the Monado like that—it was always the one wielding me, really.”

Alvis’s hurt look softens at Shulk’s explanation.

“I think of you as an equal,” Shulk continues. “As a friend.”

Slowly, a familiar smile crawls onto Alvis’s lips. He reaches up a hand and lightly touches Shulk’s jaw. 

“That’s why it could only ever have been you to bring this world to peace,” Alvis says softly.

Peace? Maybe. But what does all that matter if he’s stripped away this incredible being of its power?

Finally, they disentangle their limbs and clean themselves up.

“I must be going now,” Alvis mutters, handing Shulk his shirt.

“Are you sure?” The words may have fallen too quickly from Shulk’s lips. “Stay the night, at least. In the morning, we can have breakfast with the others. I’m sure they’d love to see you.” 

“I don’t believe they would,” Alvis says with a grimace. “After all, if not for me, they wouldn’t have lost as much as they have.”

Maybe he’s right. Melia may not think too highly of him, and Reyn, with all his tactlessness, might say something crass.

Alvis leaves the room to collect his clothes out in the entryway, and it’s all Shulk can do to follow him out and watch him silently, wish for the thousandth time there was something he could do to change this future.

Turning to him, fully clothed now, Alvis says, with a somber smile, “Goodbye, Shulk.”

“When will I see you again?” Shulk asks—again, much too quickly, much too desperately. 

“I can’t say.” Alvis’s smile turns into a bit of a curious one, a bit amused. “But isn’t this what you wanted? To live in a world of uncertainty.”

“Well, sure, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make promises.”

Alvis’s look is soft, like he’s touched or like he’s just learned something new. There’s still something sad in his eyes, though. Something Shulk wishes he could chase away with another kiss.

“I’m certain we’ll meet again someday. Though when exactly, I cannot say,” Alvis says, as cryptic as always.

Shulk shakes his head. “That’s all right. That’s enough for me.”

Chuckling under his breath, Alvis lifts one hand in a lazy wave. “Until then, my dear partner.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Shulk says with a nod and a smile.

Alvis leaves, and it doesn’t feel at all like the last time he left—or, rather, the last time Shulk left him. There’s no guilt or horror this time. Only an ease of knowing this beautiful person is still alive, and an eagerness to see him once again—whenever that may be.

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel: [Stay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26095693)


End file.
